Ghosts
by Yampie
Summary: [Violence/Gore][Language][RF1] The Sechs army isn't going to stop just because some vines grew on a few of their tanks.
1. Nacht und Nebel

Ghosts

A Rune Factory 1 Fanfiction

Chapter 1

Nacht und Nebel

The squad started with Sharron. She always got in late, but tonight would have been later than usual, if she'd gotten in at all. She'd found a stone with a strange symbol on it in the depths of Kasimir ruins and was still sitting by the lilypads, examining it. Raguna might have stopped to wonder how her dress never seemed dirty, but the squad did not spare the thought. She never even saw them coming before a hand clamped around her mouth and the knife came up and slashed. It was over in an instant, and then her ghostly form did not seem so ethereal and immortal anymore, slumped on the ground and stained with blood. The squad jeered at the dead body, exchanging high-fives and laughter as they meandered along.

They marched on. Well, tried to march. Some of them had been drinking, and either way none of them seemed to be taking this very seriously. But they proceeded nonetheless at something resembling a march, and it was not long before they came to a cozy building with some turnips growing in pots by the door.

"This is the one I like," said the fat man to the squad leader, toying with his knife. "Say, can't I get a moment alone with her?"

The woman sighed, a faint look of disgust shadowing her face. "Just don't take too long. We're coming in in sixty seconds."

The fat man grinned, yellowed teeth baring themselves, as he slid the knife back into its sheath. He opened the door slowly and fancied himself stealthy as it didn't creak at all. He knew which room was hers; recon work had him posing as a traveler and time and time again he found himself watching her, entranced by how untouchable she seemed. He would disband that illusion soon enough, he thought as he stood over Mist's sleeping form.

But he wasn't as stealthy as he thought, because her eyes snapped open and then she was screaming, screaming loud enough that the sound must have carried forever, and then the knife was in her throat but he could hear someone swearing in the next room and that was not what they had planned at all. Mist lived alone, the dear. He bolted into the second room over as his teammates filed in at the disturbance and saw one bare foot disappearing out the window. Curses, he thought, they had a head start.

"Damn it, Phil, you didn't sweep the building before you killed? Now we have to go after the other one. File out, stat," rattled the leader.

Phil smiled wryly. "I'll catch up. I have… unfinished business." His eyes shifted over to the doorway of a room where a corpse was waiting for him. "Squad Captain Adel," he added as an afterthought.

The noise that came from Adel's throat was one of deep disgust. "We don't need you anyway, you sod. Just go home when you're done." And with that, she left.

Phil drew his knife again, crossing back into the room where copper was starting to fill the air. The girl wasn't dead yet, and indeed had dragged herself to the floor, grasping at her neck and the bedsheets alternatingly, gaping at him through her tears. "Oh, poor baby," he said to her. "It's okay. It'll be over before you know it."

* * *

"NO!"

Raguna shot himself upright, reaching out for a man that wasn't there and knocking a lamp off the bedside table in the process. Breathing heavily, he looked for a moment at the sweat beading on his outstretched arms before he dropped them abruptly. He slumped back down, trying to regulate his breath. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.

With a sigh, he slid out of bed. The clock had gone down with the lamp, but thankfully neither was broken. He put them back where they belonged and checked the hands on the clock – five in the morning. No point going back to bed, though, not when the nightmares were waiting for him.

It was the scream that had stayed with him more than anything. A scream that had carried through two walls and a mile of distance to wake him up in the middle of the night, and then Lynette minutes later, confirming his worst suspicion.

He ached for Felicity to kiss away the night terrors, but she was right. It wouldn't do for her and the baby to come to the capital with him – the journey was long enough as it was and it was probably better for as many people as possible to be in Kardia in the aftermath of what happened.

He also longed for his familiar farming clothes. He wanted to tug on the gloves, feel the simple brown shirt cling to his skin and the weight of his toolbelt on his hips. But no such things were acceptable in the presence of the King. The clothing provided to him was folded neatly on a chair in his room, and he frowned as he pulled it on. Tight pants that he felt constricted his movements, and a shirt he was sure was made of silver thread. What a waste of material. The sheer amount of layers he was required to wear baffled him. Over the shirt he was meant to wear a vest – gold thread, this time – and around that, a belt. After that came a coat, and then another belt. Was this typical for court get-up? How did they _move_?

The shoes stumped him for a moment, and he almost laughed with embarrassment as he realized just how long it had been since he had bothered to unlace or lace his boots before pulling them on and off.

The ordeal of dressing over, he moved toward the washbasin, but promptly fell and heard the clatter as the lamp on his nightstand, for the second time that morning, fell on the floor. He glared at the wire he had tripped on, silently cursing electricity. Candles worked just fine at home, he thought as he set the lamp back on the nightstand and, with some difficulty as he tried to find the little knob and which way to twist it, turned it on. Light flooded the room, and he squinted as it penetrated his tired eyes.

The washbasin, he discovered, had some infernal device that showed him his own face. He had never much bothered to look at it before, but as he rubbed water on his forehead, he noted the scar along his jaw from the bloody chimera, and the stitches across his cheek that would leave their own mark in due time. Old and new come together, he thought grimly, shuddering at the thought of the sword which had made the new.

* * *

Her hands were shaking. She knew it was because she'd had less than ten hours of sleep in the last four days, but as much as she kept telling herself that she was only reducing her productivity, she couldn't sleep in the first place. Not with the moans of the people downstairs. Not when there were so many wounded she'd had to borrow mattresses from the other villagers. Not when Tori was there, reaching out to her as she walked past, her legs grotesque purple stumps. Lara took Tori's hand firmly and, after gazing into her pained eyes, glasses long gone and hair fallen from its usual braid, she injected another syringe full of morphine into Tori's IV. As her lids dropped, Lara moved on.

Some were better off than others. Raguna had only needed stitches and was already up and about, to the capital of all places. Jean and Rosetta weren't too much worse. They were pretty cut up and Jean had lost an eye, but nothing stitches, bedrest, and a glass orb wouldn't fix. Their attackers had favored knives, fortunately. Unfortunately, Tori and Ann's hadn't. Instead, they had touted guns, and Lara could still feel her finger in Ann's right ventricle, telling Zavier and Lukas what she needed them to do, not even sure how she had managed to defy the odds and save the woman's life. And then Tori, oh Tori, her legs were unrecognizable lumps of gore, shot until the bone showed through in most places. Tori, of all people, victim to a sick bastard's torture games.

It had taken its toll in more than just legs. She hadn't said anything legible in these past four days, and her wild eyes roved like those of a cornered deer, not an intelligent young woman. Even Ann, when she had woken up, had at least been able to say "pain."

Lara tried not to think about the ones who had it even worse than them.

As she was going to fetch more clean rags, she bumped into something solid and looked up slowly.

"Zavier," she said simply. She didn't realize she was swaying until he steadied her.

"You need some rest, Lara," he said with concern.

"I know," she found herself saying automatically. She shook her head violently. "But I can't! Your mom – your sister – Jean and Rosetta –"

" – are all sleeping soundly at the moment," he interrupted smoothly. Lara looked around confusedly and realized he was right.

"But…"

"But nothing."

"I just… normally Edward is… Ed… Ed-ed-ed-" Lara couldn't hold the tears back anymore. "I'm n-not even qualified t-to handle this, I, I just, I've only ever _seen_ a to-tourniquet being set, so G-God knows if I, I even did it right…"

He pulled her into a hug, and the simplicity of his answer surprised her. "I know. But it's okay."

She appreciated the sympathy, she really did, and it _was_ comforting, and she knew she needed to break down eventually. But as nice as Zavier was being, now was not the time. She wanted privacy when she mourned the loss of all the family she'd ever had.

"I'll wake you up if any of them need you," he offered, letting her go after a moment.

"Thank you, Zavier. I might actually take you up on that."

He nodded, and she made her way up the stairs, clinging to the rail as if for dear life. It was easier to use the guest bed of the hospital, easier than going back to the church and knowing her father wouldn't be there. And more practical, too. As she fell into, sleep came almost immediately, but so did the nightmares.

* * *

The squad had torn through the farmhouse and found nobody there.

"This was the most important one! The Earthmate! Damned if we're going to miss him because you guys fucked up!" screamed Adel the Squad Captain. She unlatched a grenade from her belt and catapulted it into the house, shrieking in frustration. After a few seconds, the windows shattered, and the house went up in flames. She knew it was a waste of a grenade, but it made her feel better.

With a sigh, she turned to her team. "We got cocky," she said simply. "We need to get organized, stat. Christophe, you slaughter the animals. The rest of us will split into two groups. I will take one and Marge will take the other as my second in command. There's a lane running through the center of the town, and it intersects three other streets. Each group will take one side and move in a Z pattern, sweeping every building and killing everyone in sight. Is that understood?"

Nods all around. The groups were formed and they proceeded. Marge took her group to the left, opening the door with a silent laugh. Nobody in this town even thought to lock up. It was almost too easy. The lights had even been left on, as if to make it even easier for them to be found. She looked around in a 360 circle, thankful that there was only one room to check, before signaling that the room was clear and moving her group upstairs. She led the way, moving quickly through the upstairs with her sword drawn. She frowned when she saw the first bed empty. The second empty bed sent her into a panic. If she lost these guys, too, who knew what kind of trouble she would be in? She bounded downstairs and – there, in the middle of the room, trying to sneak out the door while the squad was distracted, were a blonde man and an equally blonde woman. She charged them in a fury, impulse quickening her step as the pair bolted for the door, her sword raised.

* * *

"Please, no…"

Lynnette barely even registered her own whimper until she realized that the nightmare was over, that all she could see was the inside of her eyelid. She lifted it and saw, not carnage, but wooden ceiling. It was the upstairs of Spear Fisher, Sabrina's shop, and most of the village was staying there, primarily because it was the only building not covered in blood and nobody quite trusted Sabrina and Neumann alone after Nicholas.

The big clock on the wall said it was six o'clock, late enough that she could rouse the clean-up crew. Lynette had the duty of leading it somewhat forced upon her, since she could best detach her heart and her stomach from the work. It wasn't something they taught you in military school, how to clean up after a battle, much less a massacre. Day 1 had been moving bodies and digging graves. Day 2 had been funeral services. Day 3 had been starting on the actual blood and guts.

It was going to take a while.


	2. Wir sind die Zukunft

Ghosts

A Rune Factory 1 Fanfiction

Chapter 2

Wir sind die Zukunft

Raguna felt nauseous. It wasn't that the food looked bad. It was that it looked wonderful, and there was so much of it, and everyone was sitting around laughing and smiling. He glared at Ivan, who sat on the King's right side, just across from Raguna himself.

Ding, ding. So the rich really did tap their glasses when they wanted attention. He didn't know whether to laugh or vomit as the room fell silent and the King stood up, clearing his throat. He raised his glass and said, "To my reunitement with my son!" A cheer went up. "To the survival of Kardia and the repellence of the Sech's first wave!" Another cheer. "To Raguna, whose noble blood has made him a hero many times over!"

"To Raguna!" echoed the room. The man in question scowled.

Keep your mouth shut, he told himself. There is absolutely no use in shouting. Use their idiocy to your advantage.

But looking around him made it hard. He'd just lost almost a dozen of his friends and loved ones, and the men and women here were laughing and eating meat and drinking champagne. He had never been a particularly materialistic person, but the excess made him sick. Couldn't he have used a piece of this extravagance when a typhoon hit? Or the year the locusts came? He was not poor by any means, but he worked hard and saved his money. He had a feeling that wasn't true for the Board with which he was dining.

"Hopefully," the King continued, "you are nearing the end of your meals, as we have important business to discuss."

To the Board's credit, the mood did grow heavier as he spoke.

"As you all know, I'm sure, the Sechs have crossed our border and spilled our people's blood. We need to decide what to make of this. I would like your thoughts as Board members."

Ivan raised his glass.

"Prince Ivan has the floor."

He nodded and stood. "The Sechs have attacked in the past, have attacked at present, and will attack in the future. They have unofficially declared war on us and it is time we act as such," said the man. Raguna was thrown off by his elegant clothing and cultured speech. He was as good a spy as any, and at least he was on the right side, but Raguna couldn't help still being upset with him for keeping so many secrets.

Ivan sat down and a small man with an angular face sitting near the end of the table raised his glass.

"Boardman Marcus has the floor."

Marcus stood slowly and deliberately. "With all due respect to the Prince, I believe the attacks to be unrelated."

"Unrelated-!" Raguna spluttered, but the King held his hand up to him.

Marcus continued, undaunted. "The attack three months ago occurred with tanks, and an entire legion of soldiers. The Grimoire drove them off, after being freed by Prince Raguna, and then the Sechs seemed to change their mind. In comparison, this attack seems trivial –" Raguna clenched his fist "– and small. How can we be sure it wasn't just a group of drunk soldiers deciding to end a grudge?"

"They were not acting independently," Raguna said heatedly. "They were –"

"You do not have the floor," the King interrupted.

Holding back a frustrated sigh, he thrust his glass in the air, the champagne sloshing out a bit onto the tablecloth. He met the eyes of each person at the table, daring them silently to reprimand him. Marcus slowly sat down with a dirty glance his way, and the King cleared his throat.

"Prince Raguna –"

"I'm a farmer."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm a farmer, not a prince."

The King looked at him with what Raguna thought might be sadness, but he refused to feel bad for his words.

"Very well," said the King. "Boardman Raguna has the floor."

Raguna pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before slowly getting up.

"Let's forget for a minute that my home was burned down and eleven of my closest friends are dead. Let's forget that the Sechs wiped out an entire family line four nights ago. Let's forget that they killed an eleven-year-old boy." The listeners began to shift their weight around, uncomfortable, and Raguna smiled in his mind at the dark humor of it, though no such thing was indicated on his face. He continued. "You can imagine that this might be difficult for me, so I suggest you reciprocate by listening. Really listening. The Sechs that attacked that night were armed for a bloodbath. They carried some powerful guns, and they were wearing vests. Off-duty soldiers are not that prepared. There was a chain of command, and they moved in a planned formation. Off-duty soldiers are not that organized."

Raguna sighed and ran his hand through his hair before continuing. "And although we have a former Sechs Lieutenant on our side to vouch for Sechs character, she doesn't have anything good to say and in fact has suggested the Sechs would not give up so easily after the attack three months ago. She warned us about this, and we ignored her. Do not make the same mistake. The Sechs are after Norad and denying that because you don't want it to be true isn't going to help us at all."

With vindication, he sat down. Much to his dismay, a woman two seats over raised his glass. What more could there possibly be to say?

"Boardwoman Lane has the floor."

She stood and smoothed her dress out. "Thank you, Prince – er, Boardman Raguna, but the fact is the Sechs have no motive. We've done nothing to provoke them." She sat down hurriedly.

Raguna closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose again. This was ridiculous.

He snapped his eyes back open as the King said, "Boardwoman Kel has the floor."

She glared at Lane as she stood and opened her mouth haughtily. "Three months ago when they nearly launched a full scale invasion, we had done nothing to provoke them. That doesn't mean they have no motive. If any of you had been keeping up with the state of the world and its nations, which as politicians you are supposed to do, you would know that the Sechs has over-industrialized and its land won't grow food anymore. What more cause do they need to take over the most agriculturally prosperous kingdom in the world? And what makes you think they've given up when they're as desperate as they are?"

The woman sat down with a huff and Raguna sought out her eye. When she glanced his way, he inclined his head with a small smile. At least some people here were reasonable.

"I don't understand," said one man. After the King gave him the floor and he stood, he continued. "We've been trading with Sechs heavily in food items since the famine hit, and they don't seem to have suffered particularly except in some budget cuts."

Ivan stood. "The reason the Sechs economy got so healthy in the first place was wartime mobilization. The longer they are at peace, the more their economy suffers, and their citizens are starting to feel it. The people aren't asking for war, per se, but they're protesting the cuts, and that makes the government trigger-happy. They're looking for war instead of a way to shift their economy's focus to something less destructive or a way to improve farming conditions, because for them, war is easier."

Raguna ventured a glance at Boardman Marcus, who now looked like he had eaten something very sour. There were whispers around the room now as the reality of the situation began sinking in. Nobody had touched their food during the conversation, and in fact the plates had been taken away by palace servants and Raguna hadn't even noticed.

The King stood and the whispers fell into silence. "It is clear to me that regardless of whether this week's attack was independent or not, the Sechs will continue to plan to overthrow me. We must prepare for war. I would like to appoint five people to a Mobilization Committee, two from the Board and three from the living members of the Hall of Heroes. Those who are part of both will be considered as Heroes." He beckoned one of the servants over and said something quietly to him. The servant withdrew and then directed his coworkers to put parchment and quills with ink in front of all of them. The King spoke again. "Please write down your nominations and pass them to me."

Raguna stared at the paper for a moment. He didn't even know five of the names of the people around him. Shrugging, he decided to write what he did know (and approve of), and hope for the best.

_Ivan_

_Kel_

_Lynette_

He laughed a little at his short list and passed it to the King. After a few moments, the King shuffled through papers and frowned.

"Boardman Raguna."

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Who is Lynette?"

"A hero, and I'm surprised you haven't given her a spot in the Hall yet. She's a turncoat from the Sechs that's been on our side for some time now, and having an insider's opinion will be invaluable."

The king nodded thoughtfully, then began to tally votes, much to Raguna's dismay. After what seemed like eternity, the man cleared his throat.

"The committee will be as follows. Prince Ivan –"

Raguna nodded in approval. Ivan had Kardia's best interests in mind, even if he had kept secrets from its people.

" – Boardman Marcus –"

Raguna blanched, but wasn't surprised.

" – Boardwoman Kel –"

Excellent. She clearly had a good grasp of how war worked and would be useful to no end.

" – Lynette of the Sechs –"

Whispers of shock went around the room as they realized that their votes had not been the end-all-be-all. Raguna was surprised, but did not let it show, instead smiling.

" – and Prince Raguna."

Oh, no. This was not happening. He was a _farmer_. Not a Prince, and certainly not a politician or a war tactician. The deal had been a visit to the capital to give his input then return to his quiet life with his dirt and his plants and his wife and his son. It had not been to get dragged into a career that maddened him to no end.

"The rest of you are dismissed," said the King. Raguna pushed his bangs out of his eyes and was shocked to find a strand of silver coming away with his hand. He was too young for this.

Once only the Committee was remaining, the King spoke again. "Lynette of the Sechs will be summoned. Her arrival will likely be in two days' time, so in three days I will hold our first meeting. More specific details will be sent to you before this time. You are now dismissed." With a great sigh, Raguna stood, but the older man stopped him. "Raguna, a word alone?"

He searched the King – his father, really – with his eyes. He couldn't help but feel paranoid, but he nodded begrudgingly. The man beckoned Raguna to follow him and led him into the garden. He sat down on a bench, draping his long robes over his arm, and patted the spot next to him. Raguna crossed his arms and leaned against a nearby tree. "Well?"

"I wanted you to know how proud –"

"_Proud_?" Raguna sputtered. "Listen, even if I do believe that you begot me with some Sechs woman, I don't think of you as my father! Or even a father figure! You don't have the _right_ to be proud of _my_ accomplishments. You didn't have the right to say anything about my "noble blood making me a hero" or whatever bullshit it was you were spouting back there. _I_ am not even the hero. You invited me to address the incident, but not Lynette? When she was the real hero behind all this, when it's because of her that I'm alive? And if I _was_ a hero, it certainly wouldn't be because of any noble blood. You spent _two years_ knowing where I was, and you didn't make any effort to connect with me beyond sending my half-brother to spy on me! And then after the Sechs attacked and were turned back, the letters came flooding in, about my addition to the Hall if Heroes and my inclusion in the Royal Family and requests to go here and go there and I ignored every single one because as far as I'm concerned, you are no more my family than the dead are living!"

He finished and became aware that he was shaking as if he had just spent massive amounts of adrenaline and was coming off a high. He had never been so angry he shook before, but he recognized the look of sorrow in the other man's eyes and he took several deep breaths to calm himself.

"Speaking of family," he continued, "I'd like to send a letter to my wife with your messenger along with Lynette's summons. She expected me back tomorrow, but while I certainly considered turning down the spot on the Committee, I… I recognize its importance."

"I'd be happy to oblige," said the King, not meeting his eyes. Raguna nodded and turned on his heel, sweeping back into the palace and returning to his room.

But as he opened the door, he was promptly accosted by an angry-looking Ivan.

"You could have been a little kinder to him, Raguna," said the man, rising from the desk chair as he entered.

"He could have not been such a tool," Raguna responded tiredly, turning the lights on and fiddling with the outer belt around his waist.

"Even if you didn't approve, he's our fa-"

"Don't. Don't even say that. He is not my father. There is no 'our.'" Raguna paused for a moment as he reached an epiphany about life as royalty. "Goddess, Ivan, do you even know what family is?" For the first time, he spoke with pity instead of anger.

Ivan seemed to sense this, and he tensed. "Of course I do."

"Then you'll understand why I don't think of the two of you as family, and why I hereby abdicate the inheritance of the throne to you, though I should think it was obvious in the first place I would refuse to take it. Now, could you please leave?" He held the door open.

Ivan seemed undecided as to whether he wanted to respond, but after several heavy seconds, he walked briskly through the door. Raguna shut it a little harder than he meant to and sank into the desk chair. After a moment of resting his eyes, he pulled some parchment and a quill from the drawer and unplugged the ink well.

_Felicity,_

_It's going to be war with the Sechs, my love. I know you expected me home soon, but it will be a while after all, since they put me on their war prep team. I considered turning it down, I swear I did, but I couldn't. It's too important, and I worry who would take my place if I refused._

_Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about our conversation. I won't let them make me into their Prince. And I've made sure they all know that. I hardly care for life in the capital in the first place. Too many wires, too little soil._

_I'm sorry to leave you with the farm while I'm gone. I think it'd be a good idea to dip into our reserve a little and hire Neumann, maybe Sabrina too, if either of them are willing. Neumann can farm, and they both need to be kept busy and tired or else they'll start thinking about Nicholas._

_I don't know what I'd do if we lost Jay. Keep safe, please. The Sechs are a stone's throw away. I know Norad's stationing soldiers in Kardia, but I still worry._

_You know how I am,_

_Raguna_

* * *

It was evening, and they'd all gathered in the square. Felicity was used to doing head counts, but she wasn't used to counting so few.

"Alright," she said, stepping into the center where she could be more easily seen. Normally, the chatter would have fallen away, but nobody was talking in the first place. Her eyes found Cecilia's and her heart broke a little at the fear within them. She cleared her throat. "You all know why we're here. The mayor has died –" she hoped her voice didn't break "– and we need a new one. We'll elect by popular vote, in two rounds. The first round is nominations, and then in the second round we vote on the top three nominations. We would have done this sooner, but… You know." She gestured over to the table. "That table has parchment and quills. One vote per person over the age of sixteen, and I know _all_ of your handwritings. Write the name down and put it in the ballot box. When everyone is clear from the table, I'll make a count. Okay, now go ahead!"

She laced her fingers together as she watched them cluster around the table. Each person seemed to take a while, as if they hadn't given much thought to this question before. She couldn't blame them. Her father had seemed untouchable, for one thing, and for another so had most of all the others that had died. Everybody was a bit too stunned these past four days to really think about the business side of the aftermath. She herself hadn't even touched her father's will yet.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. She looked at the man attached to the hand.

"Hello, Zavier."

He smiled grimly and rubbed the pieces of paper between his fingers. "Lara asked me to cast her vote for her. And I think I know who Tori and Mom would vote for, too."

Felicity nodded. "That's fine." He thanked her and walked off.

When at last everyone had cleared away from the table, she pulled up a chair and opened the ballot box, pouring the contents out onto the table and rearranging them. When she finished counting, she was more than a little surprised. Walking into the middle of the square, she announced, "The finalists on which we will vote are myself, Raguna, and Lady Ann." Trying to ignore the fact that she was in the running, and the fact that the other two weren't even available to speak with at the moment, she walked back over to the table. "Do the same thing as before, but this time pick only one of those three."

Once again she watched as the townspeople crowded around then backed away. The count was so narrow she double checked and triple checked, but at last she had to accept what she had written on her notes.

_Lady Ann III_

_Raguna II_

_Felicity __IIII __IIII_

Privately, she was rather happy with the result. She knew she would do a good job with it and wanted to continue in her father's memory. Publicly, she was apprehensive. She barely had two-thirds of the vote. That was a third that didn't want her calling the shots. She could only hope the news would be well received.

She fidgeted as she made her way to the bulletin board and hung the results up, then briefly announced that the villagers could look before she left the square, going back to her father's house where she was staying until the farmhouse got rebuilt. A rather confused looking man in the garb of a Norad soldier was standing by the door. When he saw her, his face lit up. "Mrs. Felicity Restia?"

"Yes," she said uncertainly. It had been a long time since she heard her last name.

"Letter for you!" said the man cheerfully, holding out said object. Felicity thanked him and took it, then retreated into the house. She sat at her father's old desk and looked around before opening the letter. She couldn't decide whether to smile or groan as she read it. With a sigh, she procured a quill and ink.

There was a lot of work to do.


End file.
